The Devil and Chloe Decker
by Tazlet
Summary: Now that Dan is out of jail, Chloe and Lucifer have a few issues to work on.


DevilDrag6

 **The Devil and Chloe Decker**  
by Taz

Wednesday at Lux wasn't a Club Night; it was a night when movers and shakers booked private rooms, and less lucky mortals lounged in booths. They all drank, tried to finalized their deals, and waited.

Lucifer stepped from the elevator and descended to the main floor, striding down the steps in time to the music. The video screens displayed his image, enlarged so that it was visible in every part of the club. The volume of the music began to drop, slowly but perceptively, and a spotlight went on to illuminate the grand piano, with sheet music spread open on the music rack, an empty bench, and waiting microphone.

There was no question that the master was in the house. Eyes filled with speculation followed his every move with a sense of heightened anticipation.

He flicked the tip of his tongue between his lips to taste the swirling energies. Lust, that had been smoldering like musk in the background, burst into flame and subsumed the lesser urges of Gluttony and Greed. Pride, provoked, inspired Envy, and Envy goaded Wrath. Sloth was the savory, it added piquancy to the brew; somewhere in this room was a writer who had blown his last deadline—Lucifer detected more than a hint of incipient despair—and would be begging on his knees for a favor before the night was over.

Favors were the Devil's business.

The business of Lux came first.

The DJ was starting to wind down, playing slow jams. It was early and only a few couples were dancing. A young girl with perky breasts had to pretend to trip as she brushed past him so that she could press against him and let him feel the warmth. He caressed her shoulders, smelled her perfume—Midnight Candy—and whispered in her ear that Leonardo DiCaprio had told him she had nice tits, and left her looking desperately up at the smoke glass walls of the private rooms.

He caught one of the servers by the elbow. "Tell Ollie I want to see him. Tell him to bring the bible." He whispered in her ear, and pinched her chin.

Shortly, Olivier the assistant manager, turned up in the alcove behind the bar that was the staging area for the night's festivities. He had the guest book in hand, as requested.

Blond, square-jawed, and ripped, Olivier (real name Oliver) was, according to Mazikeen, dim as a plank, possessed of superior lingual gifts, but no acting ability whatsoever. He did have vast ambition, however. Lucifer approved of ambition… It led to so many falls.

"Ollie." Lucifer put down the stack of invoices he'd been looking over, but kept a finger on it. "Any meetings, or screen tests coming up, that you can't reschedule?"

"No, sir, but…?"

"Good. I want you to take Mazikeen's shifts, starting immediately. You'll be compensated appropriately, of course."

"What?"

"It's opening night! The star has broken her leg! This is your big break."

"I don't understand. Is Maze hurt?"

Lucifer sighed, mental regret for the younger generation.

"A family emergency has come up. No way of knowing how long she'll out."

"I didn't know Maze had a family."

"Surprise! And I'll need you do something for me. I want an inventory of all liquor stocks, and dry goods. By Monday. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure!" At the hint of a chance to catch his superior taking kickbacks, the light finally went on in Olivier's eyes.

"I knew I could count on you. Now, who do we have for the weekend?" Lucifer held out his hand for the guest list, looked it over and approved of all but one for Saturday night. "Call his handlers and tell them he's banned."

"But…" Olivier started to protest. Lucifer overrode him, drawing a heavy black line through the name, and handing the book back.

"He was caught, pissing in a restaurant kitchen's mop bucket, on video. I know, he's adorable, but if you want to run an exclusive club, never, ever, let the trash in."

"Got it." Olivier turned to leave, and then remembered. "Kim from the talent agency called. She said she has a Brat Pack, a Lost Generation, and Romantic Poets."

"Romantic Poets?!"

"Byron, Shelly, Keats…" Olivier took a sticky note from his pocket. "Col-er-idge... I don't know who the rest of these guys are."

"Drug addicts, perverts and fornicators." Lucifer considered it, and the thought was delicious, but this generation wouldn't have a clue. "Rat Pack. Have her send me the details and, if you'd be so kind, tell Allie I want a word with her."

"Sure thing." Olivier stood there. "Anything else?"

"No." Lucifer make a shooing motion. "Don't let me detain you."

Olivier vanished, and a few minutes later Alicia came in.

"You wanted to see me Mr. Morningstar?"

"Yes. I wanted to ask how your mother was doing."

They chatted for a few minutes about Alicia's mother, who managed a convenience store in Van Nuys, and had broken her leg two weeks ago. Finally, Alicia said, "I have to get back to my table. Mom said to thank you for the fruit basket. She'll probably be sending you boxes of Ring-Dings as soon as she's on her feet."

"I look forward to it. Oh…" Lucifer reached into his pocket, and handed her a card. "You have an appointment on Tuesday. Don't be late."

Alicia read the name on the card, and threw herself at Lucifer and kissed him with extreme prejudice. He stopped her, before someone walked in. "Back to your table."

Alicia left glowing. Unlike Olivier, she did have talent. More importantly, by Monday everyone on staff would think they knew who the server 'most likely' to swap sex for promotion was.

Lucifer settled back to contemplate a job well done. Under Mazikeen's whip, Lux ran like a well-oiled machine, and an abrupt change in the power structure was bound to create disquiet. It was particularly important to keep Olivier busy. A make-work task, arrange things so that rumors started to fly, and the little proto-fascist would be too distracted to muck up anything crucial, such as the servers' schedules. That was the sort of thing that could provoke an all-out revolt.

Time to go to work.

Lucifer replaced the invoices in the file cabinet and buzzed up to the sound booth to let the DJ know it was time to take a break. After checking his appearance in the mirror—lips ruddy, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed—good, but a touch more was wanted. He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt, and only then strolled out on the floor.

He slipped onto the piano bench and picked up the dying notes of the last song and riffed on the theme, until he found a segue into "That Old Black Magic." He began to sing, and indulged himself in every standard he could think of from "Witchcraft" to "Everybody Loves Somebody."

There was a basket next to the music rack and, every now and again, one of the servers would drop an envelope into it. It was generally known that it wasn't there for tips.

There were half-a-dozen envelopes in it by the time he was finishing the set. That was when he spotted Chloe Decker coming down the stairs.

She was wearing tights and a short pea-coat, and carrying a fusty canvas tote. From the determined expression on her face, as she skirted around the edge of the dance floor and made for the dark end of the bar, he could tell she wasn't there to party.

Lucifer caught Jamie's eye with the look that meant 'serve my guest promptly and courteously.'

 _"…_ _the record shows I took the blows, and did it my way."_

He finished the song and, on a whim, began another,

 _"_ _There may be trouble ahead, but while there's music and moonlight and love and romance…"_

Chloe was a pretty woman. When you looked at her full in the face, she seemed to have perfect features. But there was something hawk-like about her profile. That dissonance was one of the things he found most attractive, it made her simply beautiful. The song gave him time to study her. Only when he'd collected his applause, and the envelopes, did he join her at the bar.

"I didn't know you were a fan of Sinatra," she said, as Jamie set a shot glass and a bottle of his usual on bar in front of him.

"If it's good enough for Old Blue Eyes, it's good enough for Old Red Eyes."

Lucifer topped up Chloe's glass, then filled his own.

"To Old Blue Eyes!" He saluted her.

"To Old Red Eyes!" She tapped his glass.

They drank.

"How is Trixie? You didn't leave her in the car? And how is Doll Malcolm?"

"She's home with my mother."

"Penelope's in town? You must let me take you both out to dinner."

"She's only staying the week. And Doll Malcolm is toast. She put his head down the garbage disposal, after she explained to him, very carefully, that her mommy was a policeman, and it was nothing personal, but he was an ass and had broken the law."

"I like her style. She cleans up after herself."

"I wish at her age that I had been half as smart and one-tenth as resilient." Chloe's smile was a little crooked.

"I like your style, too," Lucifer said. "You don't fold in the clinches. Shall we have another round?"

"Sure."

He filled both of their glasses, and they sipped in silence. Finally, Chloe said, "What are those?" She pointed at the envelopes he'd placed on the bar.

"Prayers and dreams."

"That's right, you're the man does favors to be repaid at some unspecified time."

"Maybe never, and then it's bargain."

"I have a dream."

"Do you? Tell me!"

"Ever since I was a little girl, it's been a dream of mine not to find my husband in a shallow grave. Now, where is he?"

"Where's who? Or, should I say whom?"

"Lucifer!"

"Oh dear. You're 'fraid the Devil done fer Dan!"

"I admit it crossed my mind. And I wouldn't have entirely blamed you, but I thought about our conversation earlier. You don't lie, you just don't tell the whole truth. Now, where is he?"

"Upstairs." Lucifer made a _moue_. "I have to tell you he's not fit to receive company."

Chloe shook her head.

"He went on a bender, didn't he?"

"You could say that. Yes. Definitely, you could say that."

Chloe kicked the canvas tote under her feet. "I brought a change of clothes, in case he needed it."

"That's a relief," Lucifer said, sincerely. "I had to throw everything of his away and I was afraid I was going to have to give him some of mine."

"Sometimes he doesn't know when to quit."

"I noticed."

"At least the two of you didn't get into a fight. I was afraid you would."

"Something else came up. Drink?"

"Thank you."

Lucifer refreshed their glasses.

"I was afraid you would think he was in it with Malcolm—in whatever it was Malcolm was into."

"I had a pretty good idea that he wasn't. The night the night Vanessa Dunlear was arrested, Malcolm tried to murder me. Dan came charging over the hill, like the U.S. Cavalry. He was too late, but if anyone deserved a participation trophy…"

"I guess he was making a habit of it."

"Being late?"

"Saving people from Malcolm. At Palmetto, he was the one who shot Malcolm!"

Both of them broke into laughter.

"What did you...?"

"Mind if I ask you…?"

"Why?"

"No, where. What I meant was, where did you meet him?"

"At the Academy, when I was a cadet; he was one of my first ride-alongs; let me tell you, everyone on the force knew about 'Hot Tub High School' by then, and he was the only one who didn't tease me relentlessly."

"And you were so grateful he wasn't a complete tosser that you married him."

"No. I fell in love with him. He was supportive. He didn't get mad that I could outshoot him. He was proud of me. And funny, and in case you haven't noticed, he's good looking, and…"

"Get your eyes checked, girlfriend. He's perfectly adequate."

"He's great in the sack!"

Lucifer opened his mouth.

"Don't you d-dare refute that!"

Lucifer shut his mouth.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," he said. "Your nose is red. Are you all right?"

"Sorry. Sorry." Chloe brushed at her eye. A tear? "He was f-fun! And he was my b-best f-friend." There was a noticeable catch in her voice.

"What happened?"

"He got promoted. We got married. We started talking about having a baby, and… Boom! I got pregnant. He was over the moon. But when Trixie was born, he changed.

"He totally focused on work. At the same time, he became Super Duper Macho Man. _What are you doing? Where are you going? What time will you be back? Call me if you're going to be fifteen minutes late. Be careful out there! You're not going to let her climb on that, are you?!_ "

"That sounds insufferable."

There's something about becoming a father that turns men into dicks."

"That's one explanation."

"He tried to talk me into quitting the force."

"I'm surprised he didn't try to get you knocked up again."

Chloe gave him a black look.

"And you let him live?!"

"It was a near thing."

"But you still think there's a chance that the two of you could get back together?"

"I don't know! The last few months I thought he'd changed, and wanted to work things out, but now…" Chloe stopped talking, caught her breath and then continued. "I think I understand what he was going through. When Malcolm took Trixie…"

She stopped again, but this time it was because tears were pouring down her face. Lucifer handed her his pocket handkerchief. She mopped her face, blew her nose and offered it back.

"Keep it."

"Sorry. I'm sorry. It's been a rough week. Lucifer, tell me what you've done."

"What do you mean? I've haven't done anything."

Chloe fixed him with a look. "No way does he get out of this scot-free! Maybe taking the gun from the evidence locker, if they thought he was being blackmailed. He'll be demoted or more likely lose his job…"

Chloe reached for the bottle, and missed.

Lucifer moved it out of her reach. "Cutting you off."

"No fair! How does he get away with shooting Malcolm? What favor is he going to owe you?"

"Chloe! Listen to me! I didn't have any idea Dan shot Malcolm until you told, and I haven't done a thing he's going to thank me for."

"Is that the truth?"

As she looked into his eyes, Lucifer exerted his will.

"I am not the Lord of Lies," he said.

"Then what's happening?"

"For starters, you're going to give me your car keys, and Jamie's going to call you an Uber." Lucifer waved at the bartender. "I'll send the car home with Sweet Cheeks in the morning."

"Who's Sweet Cheeks?"

"My pet name for... Never mind. Give me those! Next you'll be stripping and dancing on the piano."

"That's not a thing I do. Watch your hands!"

After extracting the keys from Chloe's pocket, Lucifer picked up the canvas tote, and guided her out the back through the service hallway to the freight elevator.

On the way down, Chloe again whispered, "What's happening?"

"I don't know," said the Devil.

 _Finis_  
 _07/04/2016_


End file.
